


The Cutoff

by hellacluttered



Category: The Magnificent Seven (2016)
Genre: Modern AU, OCs - Freeform, anarchy au?, apocalypse i guess, mag7 - Freeform, the magnificent seven - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 18:05:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hellacluttered/pseuds/hellacluttered
Summary: December 31th, 2023 was the day America shut down.Families across America turned their lights off to go to sleep and in the cover of darkness, the electricity stopped. Dogs circled restlessly, yipping their oblivious owners awake. Exasperated homeowners wondering why their power was out in the absence of a storm resorted to phones to check outage maps, but they had no coverage whether in cities or in the boondocks. What clocks still worked told their owners it was 4:00 AM on the east coast, 3:00 AM Central, and 1:00 AM in California, where the Cutoff, as it came to be known, abruptly ended countless parties and plunged the thriving clubs into silence.Then commenced an era of anarchy that no one bothered to record and the history books would fail to tell.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> As I’ve seen other authors do, I’m going to use ‘Manuel’ as Vasquez’s first name.

    It had been a fairly average day for Joshua Faraday, but so every day seemed to be.

    He woke at 7:00 sharp, hit the ‘snooze’ button on his alarm clock four times, and blundered into the shower at 7:30, his left shoulder almost as painful as his head, which was feeling the effects of the previous evening; he’d spent it de-stressing from his job, which for him meant going to the gym (the main reason his old injury had flared up), and then getting mind-numbingly drunk on his couch. He’d known he’d regret it in the morning but the hangovers never stopped him from doing it again.

    At the end of work, he could hardly remember anything that he’d achieved; it all seemed the same. Rifling through papers, adding up numbers, calling clients, it never got any better. It paid though, and pay was what he needed. 

    His coach had advised him not to play in that last bowl game, told him he’d shown everything he needed to before the draft and his team would probably win anyway. But he’d gone ahead and done it, torn a tendon in his shoulder, and said goodbye to his football star future after surgery the next morning. 

    Aiming high had gotten him nowhere, so he didn’t do it anymore.

    That night after work, he ate dinner alone at McDonalds and then headed home. It seemed most of the people Faraday encountered at work (he didn’t count them as friends) smiled multiple times a day, but not him, at least not genuinely. His first real one came when he opened the door to his apartment to be almost knocked back into the hall by the enthusiasm of his two dogs who immediately leaped up at him, trying to lick his face. He laughed, dropping his briefcase, and sat down on the ground. Both dogs clamored for the prime position- his lap- but unsurprisingly the younger one, the pit bull, won, while the elder, the boxer, had to settle for lying down next to Faraday with her chin on his knee and her soulful eyes looking up at him pleadingly. “Next time, Ethel,” he said, scratching her head. “Hey, hey, calm down, Maria,” he added, laughing as the dog in his lap kept enthusiastically licking his chin, the highest part she could reach without standing up. “You two want some dinner?”

    He went to bed early that night, Ethel and Maria curled up at both lower corners of his bed. He was tired, and sleep came easily, well before midnight.

* * *

    It had been just as long a day for Sam Chisolm and he too spent most of it sitting in one place, but that place was the front seat of a beater parked just around the corner of Market and Sixth, his new partner, a younger man who’d introduced himself that morning as Agent Parker, in the passenger’s seat. Sam stretched, sticking out his legs as far as he could it in the limited space before relaxing again. He was a patient man, and this was nothing out of the ordinary; he could have sat in that car all night too if it was necessary. He changed the radio station, not acknowledging how Parker had begun to fan himself with a Chinese restaurant menu that had been in the glovebox. The air conditioning unit in the car had broken and the police station, unfortunately, had not gotten it fixed yet.

    “Here we go,” Sam said, his hand dropping from the dial to the gun holstered at his hip, his eyes following the slight figure who had just emerged from a side street. “Let’s go, Parker.”

    It was a good collar, a solid, easier-than-expected arrest; the man only made it two blocks before Sam caught up, and the worst part of the event was listening to him whine and make threats in the backseat of the car all the way back to the station.

    Sam got home after a steak dinner with several of his fellow detectives and a few beat cops who had assisted in working the case with him. He poured himself a small glass of whiskey and put the non-department backup issue pistol he always carried in an ankle holster back in his gun safe. Glass in hand, he settled down at his dining room table to finish the paperwork for the arrest. He was three pages in when when power went out.

    Sam paused and then set down his pen, rising and walking to the window, grabbing the flashlight from the cupboard on his way. He pushed aside the curtains and looked out, thoroughly surveying the dark landscape outside, and then checked his phone, not surprised to find his service was out. Some had said it was only a matter of time until this happened. He supposed they had been right. 

    He turned on his flashlight and unlocked his gun safe again, strapping on the ankle holster that held his Ruger revolver again, and then the holsters on his belt that held twin .45 caliber Glocks. The shotgun went across his back, and a large stock of ammunition in the pockets of his coat. It was only a matter of time before the looting began, he knew. He was off-duty, but the chaos that was sure to ensue meant that not enough were on.

    He grabbed the hefty bowie knife that lay on top of the safe, clipping the sheath onto his belt behind the holster on his left hip, closed and locked the door, and then left the apartment, his lonely footsteps reverberating in the deserted staircase.

* * *

 

    It was a typical day for Manuel Vasquez in that he almost got fired and left work in a silent rage, letting it out on the punching bag in his living room. He didn’t have much patience for people who couldn’t make their minds up, so why he ended up taking a job as a car salesman, he didn’t know. But it was thanks to the job that he could keep making the payments for his apartment, so even though late at night sometimes, it seemed like a perfectly rational idea to leave the country and travel the world on his own terms, the mornings never seemed so welcoming to such dreams, which was really all they were, and he kept going to the dealership every weekday to quietly stew as he forced a smile at each new pair of upper middle class customers who all seemed so much the same.

    He was sitting on his couch late that night, reading a book, when the the lights suddenly went out, darkness overtaking the apartment and extinguishing the quiet sound of the radio in the kitchen. Vasquez cursed under his breath and set aside his book, rising to look out the window to see how far the outage spread. “Holy…” he trailed off, opening the window and sticking his head out to get a better look. Darkness spread in every direction, the dim outlines of building only visible in shadowy lines and darker stripes of alleys and streets between them. 

     Something big was happening- that much he was sure of- even if he didn’t know what yet. He lived in far too affluent an area for there to be no emergency generators lighting up parts of the block and when he checked his phone to text a friend who lived on the other side of town to ask if her power was out too, he had no service to text her with.

    He had been right. This was big.

* * *

    Inez, the friend Vasquez had had wanted to text, was out with Gwen, her friend and coworker, eating dinner at a fast-food restaurant when the Cutoff happened. One moment they were talking and laughing, comfortable in the brightly-lit restaurant, and the next they were quietly exclaiming in surprise at the sudden darkness.

    “Man, I hope my place isn’t out…” Gwen said. “I got stuff in the fridge I don’t want to go bad.”

    “Nice priorities,” Inez teased and Gwen laughed.

    “What can I say?”

    Inez took the last bite of her burger and then said, “Guess we might as well get going then, you think?”

    “Yeah, let’s,” Gwen said, grabbing her purse and standing. The other people who’d been eating in the restaurant were mostly on their way out already and Gwen looked down as she pulled out her phone, following Inez closely, her eyes occasionally glancing up to make sure she wasn’t going to run into anything. She unlocked her phone, clicking on the Uber app to get a ride home as they stepped outside, but the app wouldn’t load; instead a message came up telling her she had no service.

    “Uh, Inez? This is really weird, I…” She looked up at her friend, who was just looking around, her brow furrowed. 

    “Yeah, this is,” Inez said. Something had seemed off when she stepped outside but now she realized what it was- as far as she could see, the city was dark. “Really weird.”

    “Can you get a signal?” Gwen asked. “I was gonna call a cab, but I can’t.”

    Inez attempted it, to no avail. “Nope. I guess we’ll walk?”

    “Yeah…” Gwen agreed, though walking, which would probably take over a half hour, at that time of night in utter darkness made her a bit nervous.

     “We’ll be fine,” Inez said reassuringly. “Let’s go.”


	2. Chapter 2

    Faraday’s eyes opened and he looked around for what had woken him, finding both Ethel and Maria had left the bed and were circling on the floor, both panting nervously. That was when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot outside. He immediately got out of bed, the dogs brushing against his legs as they followed him to the window. He pushed up one of the shutters, peering through the crack. Almost immediately, another gunshot went off and he caught sight of shadowy forms down the street, in front of the little market at the corner. Muted yells echoed down the street and then a fire burst to life in the storefront, casting gargantuan shadows of the men across the street.

    Faraday reached for his cell phone and dialed 911, lowering it again in confusion when the call wouldn’t go through. No service. He flipped on the light to no effect.  _ Great _ . Not knowing exactly what was the right course of action, he decided to get dressed and then closed the dogs in the bedroom, wanting them away from the apartment door just in case, and hurried downstairs. 

    When he got outside, there were more people running down the street, many of them hooded, their faces cast into shadow in the dim lighting. It was clear they were headed for the market, whose facade still danced with flames. Faraday hesitated, wondering what point there was in intervening; whatever was going on, there seemed to be little he could to stop it unarmed and alone. That was when he heard a voice yell out and his gaze fixed on another man, this one standing with confidence, a pistol in each hand. “San Francisco PD; you got ten seconds to clear outta here.” The crowd scattered and that was when Faraday started toward the officer, figuring he could let him know how it started, or at least what little he had seen.

    That was when a black-hooded person, slight in build, suddenly turned back toward the officer, their hand rising, the outline of a pistol clear even in the darkness. “Shit!” Faraday spat. Now he had no choice but to get involved, and he’d been doing his best to avoid teamwork since he graduated college. He pulled in a deep breath, energy coursing through his veins, and drove forward with explosive force he hadn’t summoned since his days as an offensive guard, his sneakered feet slapping against the pavement. The person was apparently too focused to notice him coming, and he tackled them just as the gun fired. The pistol clattered across the cement as the person hit the ground with a thud, and Faraday only spared a brief glance to make sure the officer hadn’t been shot (he appeared to be fine, thankfully), and climbed off the person under him, hauling them to their feet. 

    “Let him go,” Sam said, picking up the fallen pistol and popping out the magazine before emptying it onto the ground. He slipped the pistol into his pocket and looked back up at Faraday, who was staring quizzically at him.

    “You do know this idiot was about to shoot you?”

    “We’re not gonna have enough room in the jails for idiots like him,” Sam said. “Let him go.”

    Faraday shrugged, his expression skeptical. “All right.” He released the man, who ran away without a word. 

    “Joshua Faraday,” Sam said, re-holstering his pistols. “What’re you doing out here?”

    Faraday hesitated, trying to place the face that he knew he recognized, but couldn’t figure out from what. “Detective Chisolm?”

    “Sam,” Sam said, reaching out a hand, which Faraday took in a firm handshake. “Been awhile, hasn’t it?”

    Faraday chuckled. “I was in twelfth grade, so yeah, you could say that.”

    “You didn’t end up in blue though,” Sam commented.

    “Nah, I went after football. Didn’t pan out. Anyway,” he gestured vaguely with his hand. “What’s going on around here?”

    “City’s out. Maybe the whole state, or more,” Sam said.

    Faraday let out a low whistle. “What from?”

    “Anarchists, terrorists, hell, I don't know,” Sam said.

    “It's not a helluva bad storm somewhere then, eh?” Faraday said drily and Sam chuckled.

    “Nope. It'd be easier if it was. Nice tackle, by the way.”

    Faraday nodded. “Thanks. Don't forget it; I saved your ass.”

    “I won't,” Sam said. “You better not either ‘cause it isn’t likely to happen again.”

    “We'll see about that, old man,” Faraday said, chuckling. “What are you doing out here? On duty?”

    Sam shook his head. “Just got off, actually. Figured there was stuff that needed doing.”

    “Looks like you were right,” Faraday commented. 

    “So, you in?” Sam asked and Faraday looked at him, confused.

    “In for what?”

    “Well there certainly aren’t enough law enforcement officers here to keep the order long given how things are going,” Sam said.

    “You want me to be your sidekick?” Faraday asked. 

    “No,” Sam said. “Just asking you to step up. You’d be compensated once this blows over, if it does.”

    “‘If it does,’” Faraday repeated. “Great.”

    Just then they heard the sound of pounding footsteps and they turned to see a tall man in  an expensive-looking suit running out of an alley, his voice, when he called out, uneven from how hard he was panting. “You gotta help me, man,” he pleaded of Sam (Faraday realized quickly he had chosen to appeal to Sam, not him, because he was heavily armed while Faraday was not), “They’re coming after me, they want my wallet; I-” Just then a gunshot cracked through the night, and the man pitched forward, hardly catching himself before he fell, his already wide eyes opening wider. “Help!” he croaked again and Sam charged forward, stepping between the man and his pursuers, who were a little ways behind him in the alley- Faraday could make out at least four or five. 

    “Get him out of here,” Sam said, his tone commanding, not one to be argued with. Faraday almost replied with a ‘ _ yes sir’  _ out of instinct from the SFPD camp he had completed in high school, where he’d met Sam. Then he hurried across the pavement to help the man, who was reeling, clearly on the verge of collapse, to keep on his on feet. They shuffled to the side of the street as gunshots split the air behind them and Faraday heard someone yell out in pain. He spared a glance over his shoulder, relieved to see it was one of the thugs, not Sam. But the sheer faces of the apartment buildings didn’t offer much shelter and he looked around, cursing under his breath when he saw the fight was now totally in the street and both he and the man he was helping were extremely vulnerable. Fish in a barrel....

* * *

    “This does not look good,” Inez said, nodding at the bank of flames six blocks or so away. They were drawing near to Inez’s apartment building, which was the closer one to the restaurant they’d been at. “Why don’t you just stay over tonight? I don’t think you should be going the rest of the way home by yourself.”

    “Yeah, that seems like a good idea,” Gwen agreed. “Thanks, dude.”

    “You’re welcome,” Inez said. “We gotta stick together, right? Maybe it’s the apocalypse.”

    She knew her friend was joking, but the words still put Gwen on edge, or even more so than she already was. Something seemed to ring true about them. “Let’s hope not,” she said, with a rather forced chuckle. 

    They continued down the street, their pace speeding up a little further, and they were two blocks away from Inez’s building when the gunfight started next to the burning building. They didn’t need to speak; it was a mutual decision- they broke into a run, sprinting the rest of the way to the apartment building. Inez pulled out her keys as they rushed up the steps, fumbling through them as she searched for the right one. “Sorry, sorry,” she muttered, regretting that she didn’t keep her keychain more orderly. “Almost got it.”

    Gwen just nodded, her gaze locked on the chaos so close by.

* * *

    Faraday’s eyes darted from one side of the street to another, desperately searching for cover, and it was then that he spotted the two women a few buildings away hurrying up the stairs of one of the buildings, pausing as they reached the top step; the one in the lead seemed to be searching for her key.

    “Hey you!” he bellowed and they both looked over, one pointing at herself, a confused expression on her face. “Yeah, you two!” he repeated. “Gimme a hand over here.”

    The two glanced at each other, and Faraday saw their lips moving as they exchanged words.  _ Hurry up…! _ He took another quick look back at the gunfight. Sam was holding his own just fine but more upstarts seemed to have arrived. He looked back toward the two women, some fraction of relief penetrating the haze of anxiety when he saw them running down the street toward him. “Help me get him inside,” he said sharply as soon as they reached him. “Let’s get out of here.”

 


End file.
